


New Wineskins

by Bischedule (neunundneunzig)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Foot Massage, Historical References, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 18:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19279168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neunundneunzig/pseuds/Bischedule
Summary: Aziraphale has Crowley try wine for the first time, and invites him to crush grapes with him. Kind of a look at very early Crowley, and the both of them.





	New Wineskins

**Author's Note:**

> Creation of wine in Georgia dates back 8000 years. So God knows where I'm dating this in any canon. 
> 
> Also, there's some feet cleaning, which was supposed to be kinda religious but came off a little foot fetishistic.

"Excuse me, please, sir." A voice like bells lilted as someone bumped into Crowley in the marketplace. It disturbed his train of thought. He had just been planning a disruption in the trade standard maybe? No, no, that wasn't it. But there had to be something better than the individual temptation.

The voice shook him, curiously familiar, and he looked up to see the pale figure donned in stained white. Crowley shot out and grabbed his arm. 

The angel turned in alarm, then smiled in recognition, "Crawly?!"

Crowley grimaced a smile. He wasn't quite sure about the name at all. He thought he'd told the angel. But who would expect him to remember a word from the demon. "Crowley, yes. And…. Aziraphale?"

"Yes!" He grinned like they weren't formidable enemies, "Iberia is quite happening, isn't it? I suppose that's why you're here."

"Er, well, yes." He smiled a bit. He was still getting the hang of the work hell demanded. That wasn't true. He was getting bored of the work hell demanded and he saw some real opportunity. Why tempt one to sin when you can push ten to devise their own sin?

He frowned, looking down at the reddish tint at the hem of his garment. "Get about some righteous vanquishing then?"

"What? Oh, no! No, this?" He leaned in with a slightly giddy smile, as though they were sharing a secret for some reasons, "Have you tried the vino?"

"Yes, yes, I see them selling it around." He remarked, starting to grow tired of the interaction.

"No! Have you _tried_ it?"

He frowned. What a curious angel this was. "As in… drank it? Consumption?"

"Imbibing, yes!" He smiled, taking Crowley's hand, "It's one of God's finest gifts to humans!"

"Isn't that rather…" he stared, trying to determine what would make an angel try to drink human beverages. They never suckled a teat, never felt the burn of thirst. There was no drive.

"Oh Crawly you must!" He patted his hand, "Here, come."

Crowley hesitated, completely confused, "That still doesn't explain the blood."

"You can't tell? I suppose I should tidy it up." Aziraphale smiled, "It's the juice of the grapes. I met a delightful man and helped him with the craft. You mash the grapes with your feet! What will humans think of next…"

"So you step on the grapes and then drink them? Seems hardly worth the appeal…"

Aziraphale shook his head, and before he could think to protest, Crowley was being dragged to a stall in the market. Aziraphale chatted with the vendor while Crowley assessed things. What a completely bizarre angel. Aziraphale, in moments, handed him a beverage and looked at him eagerly.

Crowley held the wineskin curiously, trying to brace himself for it. He put his lips to it, like a human, and sucked. He found his throat stopped up, and coughed. He would have spilt the wine if Aziraphale hadn't grabbed it from him then. 

He was curious about his tongue. It felt a little strange. There were bursts of a thousand things across them. If he focused he could hear the buzzing of bees and the blooming of orchards flavoring the grape. But he focused more on the drowning feeling he got. 

Aziraphale smiled and gave a half chortle. Some angel to be laughing at the expense of a demon. Well, he was certain many of them were doing just the same, peering down on Hell. 

"No no, you don't breathe it, you swallow it." He took a hearty swig. Crowley tried to watch his mouth carefully for the trick to it. He still couldn't suss it out.

"It's in the back of your throat. It's hard if you haven't manifested a stomach, I don't know if demons come equipped with it." He nodded, "It's almost a _g_ sound or a _kh_ but you suck it down and keep it going back."

Crowley frowned and took the skin, trying again. It was strange, and a bit came up his nose unpleasantly. But he was getting there. He tried again, managing better this time. It warmed his stomach in a peculiar way, and he nearly shivered. It was quite the interesting beverage. He took another drink and something washed over him. He looked to the angel. "You poisoned me." He blinked a bit

Aziraphale grinned, "No, no, that's the delight in it." He took the skin from Crowley and drank more, "It's a small poisoning. That is so pleasant to the human senses, see? Oh just wait you'll feel it in a moment, it's very light and pleasant. Here, try with this."

Aziraphale held up a clump of dirt. No, it seemed to be a few walnuts. What, did he expect Crowley to eat them? Crowley shook his head, staring. Aziraphale shrugged, not pushing it as he did the wine, and popped one in his mouth. He spoke through the gnashing of his teeth, "I'm going again to help press the grapes, you should come along."

Crowley was starting to feel a bit of giddiness. A smile crept up his face from nowhere, "Why?"

"I've got the distinct feeling this will really catch on, all this wine business. You must see it." The angel said, determined. 

Crowley shifted a bit. Oh, he felt comfortable. "I suppose I've got the time."

"Think of it as understanding the humans more, seeing their new, wonderful devices."

Crowley's eyes narrowed to a slit, "And why are you helping me?"

Aziraphale paused, seeming to struggle for a reason, but settling on, "Well perhaps somewhere, if you bear witness to the glorious ingenuity of The Mighty's creations, you may come to sympathize."

Crowley raised a tentative eyebrow, arms crossed. But he couldn't refuse this curious offer. And the sweet angel from the garden seemed far from the kind to trick and trap him for any reason. Distressingly, he seemed so greatly hopeful. Worse, he seemed damned interesting. Crowley thought back on his nervous little confession about the sword. This was really an angel interested in humans, to the point where he'd, to an extent, disobey. Perhaps Crowley could stand to learn some things.

He smiled, grabbing the wineskin and managing to slosh more into his stomach. Aziraphale was certainly right about the wine at least. "Yeah alright." 

Aziraphale babbled to him as they walked through the vineyard. It had taken them some time, yes, but humans had really learned to cultivate their own little Edens. He traced a finger along a fat leaf. He wouldn't mind a few plants of his own maybe. It had to make one feel like God to reign over it, didn't it?

"Tell them you're fasting." Aziraphale touched his arm gently, "Unless you want to try to eat… it's really quite good. The senses on a human body are extraordinary."

"I'll pass." He muttered, not at all content to shove flesh and mashed pastes down his throat to please humans."

"It would make you very bad company to refuse the meal, so you must tell them you're fasting."

"Yes, yes angel, I heard you." He muttered, plucking a yellowed leaf off the vine as they went forth.

It was certainly strange.

Crowley felt the plump fruit squish under his steps. It was unnatural to him. A serpent would glide lightly around these, not trampling it with heavy gait. But he supposed understanding humans more meant understanding their gangly bodies and limbs. He tensed his toes a bit, and found himself smiling over at Aziraphale, who was undertaking the stomping like a sacred task, incredibly focused in on it. 

Aziraphale looked up and met his smile, "Fun, isn't it?"

"Is that why you're doing this?" He cocked an eyebrow. 

"Well…"

"Your friend," the vintners son said to Aziraphale, clearly in earshot of Crowley, "He has wicked eyes."

"Yes he does." Aziraphale said, chipper. 

Crowley pressed back on his heels. Legs still didn't quite feel right to him. And he experimented a bit with changing his eyes more human, but the vision just wasn't right. He liked the focused predator eyes. He ground the grapes down more, looking over at the angel. Aziraphale didn't seem to hate him like he should. He seemed to actually enjoy his company. 

They stepped out after a bit. Aziraphale was handed a cloth, but Crowley acknowledge he miracled his feet clean. That seemed quite necessary. Crowley smiled a bit. He didn't really have the hang of tangible manipulation yet, just the kind to influence minds. 

Aziraphale came over to him, having already been gifted another container of deep amber wine. He took a drink and offered it to Crowley, who drank gladly. Crowley frowned at the dust clinging to his sticky feet. 

"Here, I'll wash them for you." Aziraphale smiled, grabbing up a jug of water and a small basin. "I did drag you into this after all."

"Oh you really don't need to…" Crowley couldn't quite understand why his immortal adversary was being so kind. But it made him feel a glimmer of…. Of what? Hope? Redemption? No, none of those things were for demons. He smirked, trying to think of it as making an angel subjugate himself, "But I'll accept."

Aziraphale knelt, gentle, and cupped his ankle, "Really, you need to bulk these up just a bit. It will help you walk." 

He moved his feet into the water and started massaging them gently, working off the bits and few clinging grape skins. Crowley shivered. His fingers were delicate yet firm. His thumbs swiped up over the thin tendons. Aziraphale worked two gentle fingers in between each of his toes. Crowley jerked a bit, face flushed with the drink. Aziraphale smiled up at him, "There's a lot of curious human sensations, aren't there?"

Crowley couldn't help but smile back. Aziraphale moved over and slowly worked on the next one. He took another slow drink, "Why're you being so kind, angel, really?"

He looked up with bright eyes, "I told you. It's my job to spread the brilliant light and mercy of heaven. I don't see why I shouldn't at least try to reach everyone with it."

"I don't know what Heaven would think about this…" he wiggled his foot a bit.

"I haven't asked them." He hummed, pulling away and grabbing the cloth, starting to towel his feet off. Crowley found himself averting his gaze, staring at the clay vessels holding the fresh juice. There was really something special about this angel. 

"There you are." He beamed up and moved to sit by Crowley, taking his wineskin back and drinking more. Crowley wondered if it made the angel feel just as warm as him. 

Later he sat, drinking away as Aziraphale tore bread and ate excitedly with the hosts. This certainly was a different angel.


End file.
